


Everything's A Joke

by carrionkings



Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-02-03
Packaged: 2018-03-09 06:24:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 876
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3239615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carrionkings/pseuds/carrionkings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>a tiny ginger spitfire tries his damnedest to make the best of life in kirkwall, but only really manages to get in trouble a lot</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Lothering

**Author's Note:**

> ohh my god this is the first time i've ever posted things so i'm not even sure if i'm tagging things right or what ;; i'll update this as often as i am able! thank you for being patient

Sean Matthew Hawke had never been known to run from a fight. On the other hand, he was not well known for choosing his fights wisely. 

Maybe he shouldn't have started with an insult, but it was a little late to consider another course of action. He'd been overconfident and misjudged the speed of his opponent, assuming this beady eyed ox of a farmer's son would be slow and clumsy. He'd paid for it with a punch to the jaw that had made him see stars. He hadn't even known that was actually a thing, but you learn something new every day. 

“Think yer funny, doncha, Hawke?”

Sean swiped the back of his hand across his bloody mouth and stood up. His head throbbed and he prodded a loosened tooth with his tongue. He'd known for a long time that this hulk of a youth standing before him had been pushing Carver around, but hadn't thought to do anything about it. Sean figured his brother was bigger, tougher, and could handle himself. He'd never really seen eye to eye with Carver (in part due to their height difference), but when his brother came home one evening with a black eye, fractured wrist, and no explanations, it got his blood up. Or flowing, more like. He spat with what he hoped was a nonchalant air and grinned. 

“I think I'm fucking hilarious. Or maybe just your sister.”

 _'An angry opponent fights blind,'_ his father had always said. _'Keep them angry, keep them guessing. That's the way to win against a bigger man.'_

Sean took that advice to heart. After all, when you're scrawny, short, and lacking an ounce of magical talent, _every_ opponent was bigger than you. There was still room to develop. True, he was short, but he was still only sixteen so there was hope for him yet.

Not much, but some. 

It took the other a few seconds to understand the jab. Just few seconds of stunned silence punctuated by an angry oath and a vicious right hook, but that pause was more than enough. Sean nimbly ducked under the incoming fist and swept the other boy's feet from under him, sending him sprawling. 

Pride now as badly bruised as his shins, the other boy leaped up with a snarl. Sean dodged again, knocking him flat on the red earth once more. After about fifteen minutes of this, the fight had gone out of the bully and he didn't get back up right away. 

Sean squatted down beside him and grinned again. “What, already done? Can't see why Carver couldn't take you down a peg, but I guess that's what older siblings are for, right? Right!” Suddenly, his crooked smile vanished and he stood and gave the other a savage, well aimed kick. There was a crack and a wheeze of pain as Sean leaned down, his face tight and voice low. “Touch my family again and it'll be worse for you than a few busted ribs, got that?”

 _'No use kicking a man when he's down, Sean,'_ his father had always said. _'No harm in trying to be the bigger person at heart, if not in stature.'_

That was all well and good as far as advice went. But when you're kin to an apostate and always on the run, big hearts were more likely to get stabbed and those kicked while they're down are less likely to get back up. There was still room to mature. True, he was bitter, but he was only sixteen so there was hope for him yet. 

Not much, but some.


	2. To War

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm sorry for inconsistent chapter lengths! it'll happen a lot with this fic, i think ;; the next one is much longer

Sean had always been pale. He didn't turn brown in the sun like Mother and the twins, didn't have their dark hair or dark eyes. Instead, he got freckles if he was lucky and blotchy red burns if he wasn't. Malcolm was much the same as Sean, deep set gray eyes sparkling with good humor from behind a fall of shaggy ginger hair. Now, his eyes were dull and his face waxen, having finally lost a long battle against an opponent he could not defeat. 

The wasting sickness had struck Lothering without warning. It swept in one bitter cold winter and took Malcolm Hawke with it as it retreated in the face of spring.

It started with a rattling cough and fever – nothing serious. Everyone had assumed that it was a cold, that it would pass in a matter of days. By the time anyone realized something was truly wrong, it had been too late. Neither Bethany with her youthful energy nor Malcolm with his experience could heal an illness so deeply entrenched. 

Sean and Carver hacked at the half frozen earth with hoe and spade, digging a hole as deep as they were able, all without their usual bickering and insults. 

Before the wound could even begin to heal, the king's messengers rode through the village, demanding that all able bodied men and women join the battle against the Blight. Sean and Carver were the first to follow, armed with steel to ward off the Darkspawn and cloaked in anger to dull the grief. Bethany stared after them, chin up, determined not to cry as she watched them leave. 

Carver looked back. 

Sean did not.


End file.
